I'll Wait For Her
by southernoptimism
Summary: Hermione, angry after the Yule Ball, gets stuck in a trick step. A certain redhead is there to save the day and provide butterbeer.


She entered the 4th year girls' room and slammed the door behind her.

Thankfully no one else was yet in the room because Hermione was _furious_. Why did Ron have to act like such an enormous prat, tonight of all nights? She was having _fun_, wearing a pretty dress and dancing with Viktor, and Ron had to come along and ruin it. Saying it was all _her_ fault like a little prick… Hermione stopped pacing. Why should she let Ronald Bilius Weasley ruin her night? She wasn't going to let him.

Hermione heard a chamber door slam on the other side of Gryffindor tower and assumed it was Ron. Well, _he_ can sulk all night long for all she cared. She was going to go back out. Even though the Yule Ball itself was already over, she knew there were people trapezing all over grounds. She was going to have fun.

She took one quick look in her bedside mirror, smoothed down her hair and periwinkle robes, and left the tower. The portrait hole swung open easily (the Fat Lady must still be partying) and she stomped through the halls at a quick pace.

And why the hell did Viktor leave?, Hermione fumed to herself, not paying any attention to where she was going. Was he really scared off by Ron Weasley, a freckly gingered haired boy three years his junior? Hermione was fed up with Viktor too. If he really liked her as much as he claimed he did, he wouldn't just have _left_ her like that.

She was walking down the steps, her mind about to explode from frustration, when she fell.

"Dammit!" she yelled as she tried to yank her leg free. In her anger she had forgotten about the trick step, and it was absolutely _impossible _to get out of it alone. She would have to wait here until someone came along. Merlin's beard, if she was pissed off beforehand she was absolutely livid right now. Who was she kidding, trying to go find some after party? She was Hermione Granger, little miss know-it-all, no one would invite her to any parties. She herself didn't even know she liked parties until tonight. She laid her head in her arms on a stone step and started crying out of exasperation. Stupid Ron, stupid Viktor, stupid Harry. She didn't know what Harry had done to earn the title of 'stupid' but he was a boy so he probably did _something_ to piss off a girl tonight. She would just lie here until people woke up late for breakfast the next day. Oh how they would laugh at her, stuck there in her ball robes. _Hermione's date just left her there!_ she could already hear Pansy Parkinson's shrill voice. _I knew he would ditch that Mud-_

"Hermione? Is that you?" a voice at the bottom of the stairs called, disrupting her angry thoughts. At first, through the tears in her eyes, all she could see was the red hair and thought it was Ron.

"Just GO away will you! You already ruined everything else, just-"

"Hey hey hey," the voice interrupted her, trying to calm her down. "I'm not my git little brother. It's Fred. Or maybe I'm George-"

"Fred, George, I don't care which one you are. I'm not in the mood for your little jokes tonight."

"Sorry, sorry. But I really am Fred." He outstretched a hand and let her grab it, tugging her out of the trick step.

"Thanks for that," she said. She smoothed out her dress again.

"So where were you going?" Fred asked as he shoved his hands into his robe pockets.

"I was going to- to- ugh nevermind. I think I should go to bed now." She spun on her heel and stormed up the stairs, careful not to fall in the trick step again.

"Hermoninny, wait!" Fred called, mocking Viktor's butchering of her name.

She turned quickly around, still obviously not in the mood for jokes. "What?"

"I was just heading to the kitchens, want to join me?" he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, indicating where he was heading. "We can grab a butterbeer. And I overheard some Hufflepuffs saying they had some left over firewhiskey fudge from the ball."

'Eh, might as well,' she thought to herself as she shrugged her shoulders and turned around, falling in step with Fred.

"Hey!" Hermione burst out suddenly as they neared the kitchens.

"What!?" Fred said, fumbling with his dress robes searching for his wand as a reflex.

"No, no, it's nothing like that!" Hermione said, finally laughing. "I just had this off feeling and then I realized: George isn't here."

Fred laughed loudly at this, throwing his head back a bit and his eyes crinkling. "Contrary to popular belief, we're identical twins, not conjoined."

"I know, I know. I just don't think I've ever seen one of you in a room without the other. Where is George, anyways?"

"He's off somewhere snogging Angelina," he said with a smile flitting across his lips.

"Wasn't she your Yule ball date?"

They stopped in front of the kitchen entrance portrait and Fred tickled the pear and held the door open for Hermione.

"It is the great Harry Potter's friend!" squeaked a voice right when they stepped inside. "And one of the Master Weasleys'! Thank you for the Christmas present, Master Weasley, Dobby greatly appreciates the mittens." Dobby bent in a deep bow, his nose touching the stone kitchen floor. "What can Dobby get the Mistress and Master?" Dobby asked, bouncing quickly on his feet, eager to fetch them something.

"Two mugs and a pitcher of butterbeer. Thanks Dobbers." Dobby scampered away and they took a seat at the table next to the roaring fireplace.

"You and Dobby are friends?" Hermione asked, her eyebrows scrunching together as if this were a very earnest question.

"Yeah of course we are. I know about half the house elves' names down here, George and I visit to get food so often."

"And you have him a Christmas present?" her eyebrows were still furrowed as if she were confused.

"Yeah I was going to throw them out but I figured Dobby could put them to good use. He has so many hats and scarves and socks and I've never seen him with mittens so I figured he'd like them."

Hermione looked at him in silence, as if trying to find the answer to her confusion written on his face.

"That's- that's very kind of you, Fred."

His freckled cheeks blushed slightly pink and he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "Eh, it's not a big deal, really. Dobby has sneaked me and George so much food I had to repay him some how. Speak of the little devil!"

Dobby emerged behind shelves, carrying the requested glasses and pitcher. "Here you are, Master Weasley!" He placed the items on the table and bowed low. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No, thanks for the butterbeer, Dobs," Fred said.

"My please!" Dobby backed away, bowing every few seconds until he was out of site.

"How could you not love that little guy?" Fred smiled and shook his head as he generously poured the butterbeer into their glasses. "Here you are, Hermoninny."

"Call me 'Hermonniny' one more time and I'm going to start calling you Frederick," she threatened him.

He snorted on his butterbeer. "Yes, Hermione."

They talked until an entire pitcher was gone, and when it was Dobby came back to refill it.

"Hey, you never told me why George is off snogging your ball date."

Hermione's head was starting to feel a little fuzzy; every time she turned her head it felt as if her eyes were lagging and had to catch up. She has had drank butterbeer a few times before and never felt much of an affect, but then again she has never had help polish off an entire pitcher.

"It's a funny story, actually. It turns out George has had a crush on her for awhile and he just never told me. Which was a shock at first, but we've never really discussed girls before so maybe he didn't know how to tell me. Here's where the story gets funny." Fred took a huge slurp of butterbeer and started talked quickly. "I actually wanted to ask you to the Yule Ball but I known has a crush on you, don't tell him I told you that, and in all honesty I don't know why he's acting like such a bloody prick towards you that's not how you get a girl to notice you. Anyways, I didn't ask you out because I didn't want Ron to resent me, so I asked Angelina to go with me as a friend. But that's before anyone knew Viktor asked you. I really wish I could've asked you before he did."

"Wait, so why did you want to ask _me _to the ball? There's no way you could be interested in your little brother's and sister's friend."

"You're not my 'little brother's and sister's friend', you're Hermione. I was actually hoping to spend some time with you at the Quidditch World Cup, go on a walk or something, but then that whole dark mark thing went down and it just didn't seem like the proper moment."

Hermione started to giggle and smacked him on the arm. "C'mon Fred, you're just saying all this because you drank firewhiskey punch and my hair is different and I'm wearing girly dress robes. You wouldn't even look at me twice if I didn't look like I do right now." She took her hand to smooth down her hair, afraid the hair calming potion was starting to wear off.

"Oh, really?" He laughed, his eyes crinkling on the edges. "Then why do I think you look really pretty when you have your hair in a ponytail when you're studying in the library?"

Hermione laughed nervously, not sure how to respond to that. This was _Fred_, Ron and Ginny's older brother. One of the best Quidditch beaters Hogwart's has ever seen. A guy who aspires to run a joke shop. Not Hermione's type at all.

But then again, Viktor was also not her 'type', and she had fun with him before he mysteriously left the ball early. And Fred always made her laugh. He may not have the highest marks in Gryffindor, but being funny requires wit and cleverness, which he obviously had a lot of.

"So, where did you learn to dance?" Hermione asked. The butterbeer was numbing her tact at changing subjects without being obvious. "I saw you dancing at the ball and was wondering where you learned."

Fred's eyes widened for a moment, the topic change taking him off guard. "Uh- well Bill taught me how to slow dance, he's actually quite good at it actually. Once Charlie learned how to disapparate he would take George and I to muggle concerts, so that's where I learned how to, ya know, 'normal' dance."

Hermione looked at him. His hair was tousled from sweating and dancing, the redness in his cheeks made his freckles pop, and sitting this close to him made her realize that he always had a slight lopsided grin on his face. He was pretty and funny and she was filled with adrenaline and butterbeer so she looked him dead in the eyes and said, "I want to dance with you."

The grin on Fred's face at that moment could bring wizarding world peace and end house elf slavery. "Slow or fast dance?"

Hermione thought for a moment. "Slow. There's so much butterbeer in my stomach I might vomit if I do anything fast."

Fred's body shook with laughter. "Great point, 'Miney."

"'Miney?" she asked as she stood up and took his hand.

"Hey, Hermione is a mouthful and you don't like Hermoninny."

Hermione grunted in reply and allowed Fred to lead her to the open stone floor in front of the kitchen's fireplace.

"Dobby?" Fred called. "Can you play us some music?"

There was a faint 'pop' and the sound of Christina Warbeck filled the kitchen. Fred placed one hand on her waist and took her other in his and started swaying to the music. After a few minutes, Hermione's head naturally found its home on Fred's chest and they danced in silence for awhile.

"Confession time," Fred said, speaking for the first time since they started swaying. "I actually really like Warbeck. I grew up listening to her in the house, so whenever I feel homesick I play her songs and I feel like I'm back in the Burrow and I can almost smell my mom's toffee on the stove." He could feel her cheek contract in a smile against his chest. "You've heard about my and George's joke shop we're working on right? Do you know why I really want that to take off? Sure making people life is the main goal, but in all honesty I'm really excited to buy my mum things. She has given me and all my brothers-"

"And Ginny," Hermione reminded him.

Fred chuckled. "Eh I use brother as a gender neutral term. As I was saying, my mum is the best mum ever and I truly believe that. I can't wait to buy her new Wellies and twenty dress robes and fancy knitting needles and anything else she could ever want."

"You should tell your mum how much you appreciate her."

"I'll send her a toilet lid," he mumbled against her hair.

Hermione stopped dancing and wrapped her arms around his waist, holding on tightly. "You're warm," she said.

His body shook with silent laughter. "And you're slightly drunk. I'm pretty sure I am too. So are we just going to stand here, uh, hugging? It's late and the house elves probably want to clean up the kitchen, so we should probably get-"

Hermione took her head off his chest and looked up at him.

"Fred, I'm in Gryffindor."

His head threw back in laughter, the sound bouncing off the stone walls. "Yes I know this, Hermione. You've been living in the same tower as me for four years."

She stared into his eyes, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

"Gryffindor's do brave things," she said in all seriousness.

"Ah Hermione, you're so observant. No wonder you figured out there was a Basilis-."

Her mouth was on his, cutting him off. Her lips were warm and any thought other than how good it felt to be kissing her was wiped from his mind. This is what he wanted, what he dreamt about when he dozed off in Professor Binns' class, what he never thought would happen. The calming potion had finally worn off her hair and he slid his fingers in her curls, allowing himself to get lost in them like he always wanted to. He could feel her smile against his lips and he absentmindedly smiled back, suddenly feeling content doing his two favorite things: being with Hermione Granger and smiling.

After a while, he and Hermione stumbled back to Gryffindor tower. He assisted her to the base of the girls' stairs and watched her climb, making sure she got back to her room safely. He grinned after her and was turning to walk of the boys' steps when he heard a rustling over by the fire. He walked over to the couches, expecting to find people snogging, but instead found little Ronnikins, changed out of his ghastly dress robes into pajamas, passed out on the couch.

Oh what prank could he pull on his hardheaded little brother? Should he go wake George or Lee and get assistance? Or should he practice casting a sight-taking charm, so when Ron awoke he wouldn't be able to see for a few minutes? Or he could-.

"Mmsorey," escaped from Ron's mouth as he flipped over on his stomach. Fred leaned closer, hoping Ron would let something incriminating slip. "Hermee," he groaned. "Mmsorey, Hermee."

Fred's face fell. 'I'm sorry, Hermione'. He couldn't do this to his little brother, no matter how thickheaded he may be.

He'd let Ron have a chance. Yeah, that's a good, brotherly plan. Fred mentally pat himself on the back for being so generous. He'll give Ron more time to either buck up and woo Hermione, or realize that he wasn't right for her. He'd give him the rest of his time at Hogwarts, and if he didn't do anything by then, Fred will swoop in and go after Hermione, no holding back.

Just three years until Ron graduated, he could wait until then. He couldn't imagine his feelings for Hermione to diminish by then; the kisses they just shared confirmed that.

Three years from now in May, he'll make his move. He looked forward to the day.


End file.
